


On the (Haunted) House

by Olivia_Ivy



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Amusement Park, Based on something that happened to me, Fluff, Happy halloween, I do too, Jack just really likes fried dough, M/M, Mark is an actor, loosely, no youtube au, spoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8426170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivia_Ivy/pseuds/Olivia_Ivy
Summary: "[Jack] turned on his heel to see where he was going and ended up face to face with the bloody guy from earlier, a sight he was not expecting. ... He threw his arms up in a reflex defense. Unfortunately, this made his arm and the plate in his hand act as a catapult, with the fried dough launching over his shoulder and landing powdered sugar-side down.
Well, fuck."
(Happy Halloween, with this non-scary piece of fluff! Loosely based on an experience of mine.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I promised a fluffy spoopy-ish post, and I delivered. Enjoy!

He’s done it. He’s figured out one of life’s great mysteries.

The reason people say “It’s nippy out” when they mean cold is because it’s _so_ cold that their freaking nipples are freezing off!

Or at least, that’s Jack’s experience.

Maybe it’s his fault for going out during the night in the fall, but hey, it’s Spooptober and it’s time to get scary! The place to do it: the amusement park somewhat near his town that was holding a month long Screamfest (or Screeemfest, because, you know, fuck phonics). It only opened in the afternoons and nothing scary happened until the sun set. That’s when the haunted houses opened and the “monsters” came out. In actuality, it was either park employees or actors hired to dress up like mutants, ghosts, zombies and the like. It always seemed like a cool job to Jack, but he preferred being able to enjoy the park.

On one of the last days of Screeemfest, he called up Felix and Ken and the three of them spent the day at the park. They got there well before the spooky scary skeletons came out so they could go on the rides and walk around without the fear of pigmen and creepy twins.

They worked their way around the park, going on multiple rides that turned Jack’s stomach, but did nothing to curb his appetite for possibly the greatest worst food on the planet: fried dough. For those who live under a rock, fried dough is basically a piece of dough fried like one would fry a french fry (or “crisp”, for people who live under Stonehenge) topped with powdered sugar and, on one magical school trip to a zoo, cinnamon sugar and/or chocolate sauce. Healthier than the fried twinkie, but just as addicting, fried dough should be enjoyed whenever it is available, but never sought out. Dangerous things happen to the souls that do.

Jack, for the life of him, could not understand why Felix and Ken would rather go on the Cyclone than get a fried dough with him, nor could he understand their laughter at his _very serious_ explanation of the importance of fried dough. Some people are just so uncivilized.

Now, because it was Spooptober, they knew they _had_ to go through a haunted house before the night was over. They bypassed the clown house (the line was absolutely insane and 100% not worth it. Clowns? Really?) and the haunted mine (that cost extra, again, not worth it) and went to the back of the park. There was a haunted house that seemed like a demented doctor’s office. The line wasn’t crazy and the sounds coming from it seemed like it would sufficiently make them shit their pants. They hopped in the line and moved their way quickly through with the help of people who decided to _nope_ the fuck out of it before they even got to the entrance.

Jack, Felix, and Ken were pressed against the metal barrier of the line, which did absolutely nothing to help Jack’s core temperature, but the warm fried dough resting on a paper plate in his hand made it bearable. Some of the actors were dressed like patients that Dr. Schneeplestein had taken into his hospital from hell. With a name like that, they had to know that doctor was bad fucking news. But apparently not because there was currently an actor wearing a lab coat that was torn and bloody, along with a head brace and a face full of blood, making his way towards the group. It looked like the top of the guy’s head had been sawed off then Krazy Glued back on. It was definitely one of the better SFX makeups he’d seen that night (though, the human Jack-o-Lantern was a close second). The actor locked onto their group and ambled wordlessly over. Felix and Ken took up his attention by asking for a couple selfies, which the guy obliged, holding up a bloody knife to Ken in one of the pictures. Jack kept a step away, protecting his fried dough.

Unfortunately, the guy seemed to notice that he had not properly rattled Jack and came closer to the Irishman in order to rectify that. He stepped up to the metal barrier and leaned in uncomfortably close to Jack.

Now, Jack knew that the actors wouldn’t hurt him. They were there to scare, not scar. The park even sold these light-up blinky necklaces for kids and people who didn’t want to be scared so the performers would know to stay away. Jack had seen a lady without one walking a dog with one (which was just freaking adorable). But in that moment, his love for fried dough won out over the part of his brain that screamed _LET’S NOT PISS OFF THE BLOODY GUY WITH A BLOODY KNIFE, OKAY BUDDY? THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?_

As the performer drew nearer, Jack looked down at the fried dough in his hands, looked the scary guy right in the eye, and said, “If you make me drop this, you’re buying me a new one, mister.”

Jack couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the guy crack a smile.

Felix and Ken howled behind him, and Jack himself was struggling to stifle his laughter as the man moved onto a group of teenage girls ahead of them in the line. The three guys joked and laughed as they moved closer to the entrance. By the time they got to the front of the line, Jack’s fried dough remained only half-eaten, eating having been set aside for more jokes about Jack being scarier than the guy.

“Sorry,” someone said to Jack’s left. It was another actor, this one with (hopefully) fake vomit covering their shirt and mouth and neck. They had pale skin with some veins visible, and contacts in their eyes that made their irises look white. “Dr. Schneeplestein doesn’t allow food in the E.R. Unsanitary,” the vomit-covered man said. “You can either trash it or eat it quick. But be warned, Dr. Schneeplestein’s hospital isn’t for the faint of heart, or weak-stomached.”

Bullshit was the first word that popped into Jack’s head. How dare the park make him choose between fried dough and getting properly spooped! Ken and Felix tried to get Jack to just dump the dough, but alas, he could not. He wiggle-wormed his way out of the barrier and promised to wait for the two by the exit.

“You need an intervention!” Felix yelled to Jack as Ken entered the haunted house.

“You need to suck my dick!” Jack responded, walking backwards away from the Swede and holding the middle finger of the hand not holding his fried dough up. He turned on his heel to see where he was going and ended up face to face with the bloody guy from earlier, a sight Jack was not expecting.

“JAYSUS FOOK!” He screamed. He threw his arms up in a reflex defense. Unfortunately, this made his arm and the plate in his hand act as a catapult, with the fried dough launching over his shoulder and landing powdered sugar-side down.

Well, fuck.

Jack looked at the despondent piece of carnival food on the pine needle-laden pavement. The powdered sugar made a gunpowder-like pattern on the ground. The whole scene was one crying child away from being a meme. A couple teenagers passed by and one of them pointed at the dough and proclaimed “Me,” before moving on with their friends.

Jack turned back to the actor, who was still there. He had his hand over his mouth now, and his shoulders were lightly shaking, moving the brace around his head. He looked around quickly before dropping his hand and saying, “I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to make you drop that, oh god, I feel so bad, shit.”

To say Jack was caught off guard was an understatement. Underneath the makeup, the actor looked genuinely distressed. “Ah, it’s okay, man. Don’t worry about it, really,” Jack said.

“No, I legitimately feel terrible,” the guy said. “I owe you a new one.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! I was jus’ joking around with my friends! You don’t have to actually -”

“I insist.” The guy interrupted. “Let me make it up to you, I know first-hand how gratuitously overpriced everything here.” He gave Jack a kind smile, which was a little unsettling with the fake blood still all over his face. But his warm brown eyes held only apologies and good intentions. Jack nodded and smiled back.

The guy, who Jack learned was named Mark, led him through the paths employees used to move around the park to the “restaurant” near the front of the park that made the fried dough. They saw a few other employees, both in costume and in uniform, but none of them paid attention to Jack in darkness. They arrived at the building just as the last employee was closing up shop. It was a skinny white guy, with a sombrero, fake mustache, and blanket serving as either a poncho or just added warmth in the fall weather. He looked up and jumped, grabbing his heart, when he saw Mark.

“Christ, man,” the employee said. “Give me some warning, would you? I didn’t know you were dressing up tonight.”

Mark laughed at his reaction and shrugged, making the head brace move up and down. “Aaron called in sick and asked me to cover for him.” Mark looked over at Jack, who was standing off to the side awkwardly. “Jack, this is Matt. Matt, this is Jack. I kind of promised him a free fried dough because I may or may not have made him drop his.” He seemed to sheepishly shrink into his brace at that. Matt rolled his eyes.

“We need to get you a bell or something,” he griped. Jack snickered. “Unfortunately,” Matt continued, “I’m about to shut the fryer off and I’m not supposed to give freebies to customers.” He glanced at Jack briefly and looked at Mark. Jack could see a silent standoff between the Fourth Amigo and the blood covered killer before Matt said, “You know my price.”

“The last time I saw him, Ryan was by the log flume,” Mark said.

Matt tried to launch himself over the counter, but his foot got caught on the lip of the counter and he fell to the ground. He picked himself up immediately, his sombrero skewed and poncho sliding off his shoulders. He pointed at Mark and Jack. “You saw nothing,” he said, before taking off towards the log flume.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Mark and Jack collapsed in vicious giggles. “What, what was that?” Jack asked, still laughing and wiping tears out of the corner of his eyes.

Mark went around and entered the building through the actual door. “Matt has the _biggest_ crush on Ryan. Joke’s on him, though, Ryan has fake puke all over him, and Matt is afraid of vomit.” He looked back at Jack and smiled widely, making his eyes crinkle in the corners. Jack had to admit, in good lighting, he looked less serial killer-y, and a lot more cute.

Jack leaned on the counter, closer to the warmth of the fryer, and laughed. “No way,” he said.

“Yup,” Mark replied as he dropped the dough into the fryer. “I asked Mykie to give Ryan that makeup just for this moment. I just wish I could see the payoff.”

He came over and leaned on the counter in front of Jack. “Sorry you’re gonna miss that,” Jack said.

“Sorry you’re missing the haunted house,” Mark replied.

Jack shrugged. “Needles and doctors and shit like that make my skin crawl. I love getting spooked as much as the next guy, but it’s probably better I didn’t go. My friends would’a just made fun of me the whole time. Or the whole time _they_ weren’t shitting their pants.”

They laughed and exchanged stories until a timer _ding_ ed and Mark went back to get the fried dough. There was some cursing as Mark juggled with the still hot piece of dough and Jack laughed at his misfortune. Mark put the dough on a plate and poured powdered sugar over it. Jack reached out to take it, but Mark grabbed something from underneath the counter and sprinkled that on as well. Jack’s eyes widened. “That wouldn’t happen to be cinnamon sugar, would it?”

“Yeah, why? Do you not like it?” Mark asked.

“If you can magically pull out chocolate sauce, you will officially be my favorite person,” Jack said. Mark grinned, went around to the mini fridge, and pulled out a squeeze bottle filled with a thick brown liquid. “Marry me,” Jack said.

“At least let me take you out to dinner, first,” the bloody killer said, drizzling the chocolate onto the fried dough.

Jack was grateful that the biting cold had already stained his ears and cheeks bright red. He cleared his throat, “Um, … do you hear the Ghostbusters?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Mark’s eyes widened. “Shit! The parade!” He ran out of the restaurant and waved at Jack, “I’ll see you later!” he called as he ran off toward the sound of the music.

Jack waved after him and picked up the plate with the fried dough. He noticed that the chocolate was on the dough in a design like a typical jack-o-lantern face and smiled. He lifted the dough and saw something written on the plate. It was a phone number with a winky-smiley face next to it.

Jack felt his face heat up as he took a bite of the spoopy treat.

He found Felix and Ken a bit later. “Dude, why do you have another one?” was Felix’s first question. Jack opened his mouth to answer, but the Halloween parade started going by at that moment. All the actors were roaming through the park to the beat of the Monster Mash. Some of them ventured out from the herd to lean in close to some of the onlookers. Jack, Felix, and Ken took out their phones and recorded the parade going by. There was a woman dressed as Post-Op Barbie who came right up to Felix and asked “Am I pretty, now?” through swollen lips. A guy with yellow eyes and pale skin tinged with green and vomit around his mouth, in his beard, and down his neck (whom Jack assumed was Ryan) made gagging motions in front of Ken, forcing the Southerner to back up while laughing.

Mark was near the back of the parade, limping along with his knife and head brace glinting under streetlights. He spotted Jack and went over to his group. He stopped in front of the smaller man, hunched over and breathing heavily, completely in character. Felix and Ken started giggling, obviously recognizing him from earlier. Without breaking eye contact with Jack and with a completely serious face, he dipped his finger into one of the pools of chocolate and licked it off.

“Dick,” Jack muttered when he realized Mark had stolen his chocolate. Mark gave him a slow and menacing grin.

“Call me,” Mark said in a low, gruff voice. Jack just smiled and laughed, nodding. Mark turned on his heel and rejoined the parade.

Jack shook his head and turned around, facing his friends. His friends who still had their phones out, recording, with confused expressions on their faces.

“I can explain.”

**Author's Note:**

> So where does the reality end and the fiction begin? Glad you asked. 
> 
> Columbus Day, this year. My friends and I go to Screamfest at a park semi-close. We're looking around for a good haunted house, and yes, I have a fried dough in my hands. Jack's view on fried dough is my view. We go to the back of the park, and we come across a guy with blood all over his face and a head brace and possibly a knife in his hand. I give him a wide berth while my friends take pictures. We look at the doctor's office haunted house, give it the official stamp of _fuck nope_ and start looking for a way back to the rides. Unfortunately, we had backed ourselves into a corner, which meant we had to go back past the guy. As we go past him, he seems to remember us, or, more specifically, me. Or, even more specifically, the fact that he had not properly scared me. He comes closer, and little 5'2" me is faced with a very tol and threatening predator. I look down at my half-eaten fried dough, then back up at the threat, and say " **If you make me drop this, you're buying me a new one, _mister_.** " I'm not sure, but I think I saw him smile. We left that area and that was the last we saw of him for the night.
> 
> But isn't this version better?


End file.
